


Monkshood and Mums

by Wizardheart83 (Plant_Murderer)



Series: Love That Grows [3]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Forgiveness, Gen, POC Harry Potter, They are trying to do the unimaginable
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-11
Updated: 2018-02-25
Packaged: 2018-12-26 13:41:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 16,892
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12060147
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Plant_Murderer/pseuds/Wizardheart83
Summary: Lyle and Rose Evans have been raising Harry for years, with his Aunt Petunia co-parenting from a distance, but the situation is far from ideal. The wizarding world waits, a looming threat to any progress that they might have made. If Petunia cannot love and accept the wizard that Harry will become, he'll need someone that can- and an unexpected letter may offer just the right alternative.(Worlds collide, compete (and combine?) in this third fic in the AU where Harry is being raised by his muggle grandparents)





	1. Chapter 1

Harry Potter was seven years old when he received his first letter by owl post. He'd been outside watering the part of the garden that his grandmother had helped him plant. A mix of herbs and chrysanthemums, the garden was green and white. The air was sweet there, and Harry liked to stand in the middle of the patch and breathe deeply, feeling the august sunlight warming his skin. It was nice to be outside after school while it was still bright out. Seeing a weed, he bent down to pull it and examined it to make sure that he'd gotten most of the root. Grandmum said that if parts were left the weed would come back, ("Do it right, and you'll only have to do it once, Love").  

Satisfied with his work, he went inside to do his homework and help with the prep work for dinner.  coming back inside, he noticed several things. His books were spread out in the kitchen where he'd left them, but both of his grandparents had sat down at the table while he'd been outside. Their faces were weird, not happy or sad, or worried, just... looking. Harry started to back up, maybe it was better to be outside. They'd call him in when they wanted him, right? Turning, he saw the owl that he'd apparently walked past on his way inside. It was...normal looking? Maybe a barn owl, he'd eventually figure, but at seven he couldn't tell anything besides the fact that it was perched on the kitchen sink with a letter tied to its leg. 

Harry tilted his head. 

The owl bounced the leg with the letter on it impatiently. 

Harry turned and looked back at his grandparents. 

Lyle sighed. 

"Harry, clever boy, what sort of person sends messages by owl?" Lyle nudged.

"Like Mum and Da?" Harry said, after a moment, the he stage-whispered, "Magic people?"

Rose smiled.

"Like you, Dear. It won't be from Hogwarts yet, but do you want to open it?" Rose asked. "It's your letter, but if you open it, you have to let us read it too."

"Okay," Harry said, and turned to face the owl again. He stepped forward and carefully took the letter from the owl. 

He'd never met another wizard, not really.  There'd been times over the years when oddly dressed strangers had looked at him funny, or bowed, but his grandmother had never let him go over to them. Hogwarts seemed a lifetime away, and here was someone from that world writing to him. 

"I can read it to you," Harry offered, looking down at the folded piece of heavy paper. There was a seal on it and Harry brought it to his nose, reflexively adjusting his glasses with the other hand. It smelled like a candle. It was wax, red wax. 

"Go on then," Rose encouraged, and Harry walked over to the table carefully pulling open the letter. 

"Dear Harry," Harry read carefully. 

 "It is strange to write to you when I think of the last time I saw you. You were a baby in your father's arms then, you see, and we did not converse with words, because you had none. I know how that feels. I'd like to have the words to explain it all to you; about the war, and how adults can leave behind the good with the bad when they try to move on from hard times, but I don't know how true those words would be. Easier and more honest to say that I thought you were better off without me, so this is my first letter.  

Your father was one of my very best friends at Hogwarts, and for too brief a time afterwards. Recently our Headmaster, and yours in time, Albus Dumbledore, informed me that you've been living with your grandparents and unable to see our world because it would be overwhelming and hard to keep you safe. I'd like to offer to help you see the world that you were born into, if your grandparents will allow it. I could also tell you more about your father. I'm sick, with a disease I've had since I was young, but it is only contagious at certain times, and I will, of course stay away at those times. 

The owl will wait for your reply, as will I,

Remus J. Lupin."  

Harry passed the letter to his grandfather and sat down at the table. The Evanses looked at each other and then Rose spoke. 

"Do you want to meet him?" She asked. 

"Yes," Harry replied without hesitation. "I know loads about mum, but not very much about Da. He can tell me. He could show me even, if he's got pictures. Can I?" 

Lyle opened his mouth but Harry beat him to it. 

"Sorry, Granda, May I?" He corrected. 

Lyle laughed and ruffled Harry's untidy black hair. "We'll have to talk to your Aunt Pet, Harry. She loves you too, and she has a right to have her say."

"If she says no, does that mean no, ab-so-lutely," Harry asked, taking care with pronouncing the last word in a way that made Rose's heart hurt. He was so... young, sometimes, all the time really.  

"It means," Rose said, "that the adults will talk about it until we decide what's best for everyone. Now, work on your homework, and start on your reply. We'll call your aunt."

"Yes, Grandmum," Harry said. 

He pulled out a sheet of paper and sharpened a pencil.  He looked around, turning his head in exaggerated motions before pushing his glasses up on his nose a bit and getting to work. 

Carefully, he wrote, "Hi Mr. Lupin. I got your letter. Your owl is neat-"  

* * *

 

Upstairs the Evans were sitting side by side on their bed. 

"Well, this is unexpected," Lyle said, a hand coming up to tug lightly at his hair. "What is Dumbledore playing at?" 

"It could just be a nice gesture," Rose pointed out, but sounded doubtful.  "Does it matter? We have to deal with the results, whatever they may be. Petunia loves our boy, but who knows how she'll respond to another wizard in his life." 

"We'll have to find out," Lyle said, "but first, Harry made a good point. If she says no, where do we draw the line? It's getting close, Love. If she doesn't agree to at least let them exchange letters we won't be able to allow it either; not without setting up a mess down the line. This could be good for him, but She needs to be ready. It's nearly time." 

"He was only just six, Lyle. He's barely a month into seven," Rose argued, leaning on Lyle's shoulder. "He's a good boy. As easy to care for as breathing, he is. He helps us so much." 

"I know, but I also know what we decided," Lyle said. "It was never going to be easy to give him up, but Petunia will need to take the reins, preferably while we're still here and well enough to help him adjust. We expected her to take him years ago."

"She hasn’t though, not for more than visits," Rose said. "She gave him to us, and we've done well. She helps when she's here. It's not too much for us. Lyle-" 

Lyle wrapped his arms around Rose and held her. It would be so easy to let her convince him that the two of them could be everything that Harry needed, but there was a weariness in his bones that held him back. Harry needed someone besides them; they'd always known that. Perhaps he had it in Petunia, but if he didn't... if years of trying to make her ready weren't enough to get them through Harry's joining of the wizarding world, this Lupin fellow could be important.  There were four years left, until Harry started Hogwarts. That was time to form a bond, to trust, to be like family.

"We'll see to it that Harry can write to the man, if nothing else," Lyle said at last. "We can meet him. We can insist that Harry share their letters with us, but another person who could care about our Harry for who he is, and not only what he's survived is not something to cast aside lightly."

"That sounds reasonable," Rose said. "I suppose... I suppose that we can talk about Harry's future after this is settled." 

"Rose, my world, my true, my moon's-meaning and sun-song," Lyle murmured kissing her forehead with each endearment. "We'll be his grandparents, as we always should have been. All children are borrowed. We know that better than most."

"They own themselves," Rose agreed, "if they're lucky and loved. Harry is both."

Lyle picked up the phone and dialed Petunia's number. While it rang, he replied, "We'll need a fair measure of that luck." 

When Petunia answered the phone, Rose watched nervously.

"Oh, no, Pet, we're all fine," Lyle assured their eldest daughter. "I know you're coming down this weekend, but we need to talk about something now if you have time." 

Lyle took a deep breath and met Rose's eyes with his own as he listened then said, "Well dear, Harry received a letter from a wizard today, by owl. It was a friend of his father's."

Rose watched as Lyle's face went through a series of odd expressions. 

"What is it?" Rose asked softly. 

Lyle's brows furrowed a bit as he said, "I think she's dropped the phone." 

Across the country, Petunia stared at the phone as if it were either the victim of one of Harry's odder little happenings, or a very confusing mathematical equation.  Hadn't that just been in her hand? How was it on the floor? What was Harry doing getting an owl approximately three years and eleven months early? None of it made any sense.  

It was with a tentative hand that she picked up the phone; glancing suspiciously at both hand and phone, as if they might conspire against her again.

"Sorry, Da. What did you say?" Petunia asked. Idly she sat down on a chair in the kitchen, watching the cord swing and trying to steady herself. It didn't work very well at all. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you like this newest entry into the series, Harry's older now so there's space for some adventure to go with cuteness and feels. I promise the next chapter will be longer :)
> 
> The endearments that Lyle calls Rose (My world, my true, moon's meaning and sun song) are a reference to "I carry your heart with me ", by EE Cummings, a poem I am rather fond of. Thanks to everyone who's shown this series love, and for anyone who will moving forward, the Kudos and comments are always appreciated.   
> Below is a stanza from the EE Cummings poem.
> 
> ["i fear  
> no fate(for you are my fate,my sweet)i want  
> no world(for beautiful you are my world,my true)  
> and it’s you are whatever a moon has always meant  
> and whatever a sun will always sing is you"]


	2. Chapter 2

"You want to let some stranger with powers we couldn’tdream of just walk off with Harry." Petunia said, disbelief evident in her every word.  It'd been about an hour and the conversation had been happening in fits and repetitive starts as Lyle had explained the contents of the letter and Harry's initial reaction. 

"Of course not," Lyle said. "We'd want to meet this Lupin properly at least, and that's assuming we want to allow him to contact Harry. He says that Dumbledore told him where Harry was. Lily trusted Dumbledore with her life, and with James's and Harry's for that matter." 

"We see how _that_ turned out," Petunia shot back. 

"He put protections on the house once he realized that Harry would be staying with us, and left them up on yours as well. No one with Evans blood, can be harmed in his home, he said, and no one has," Lyle argued. "Look, his letter mentioned some sort of illness that's only contagious at times. If he's being honest, that means there's no way that he could take Harry, not by himself. He didn't have to tell us that." 

"I did hear the 'if'. Why do you want this?" Petunia asked. "Has Harry been-?" 

"Doing his magic tricks?" Lyle clarified. "Of course, every other month or so it seems. It's not unmanageable. Petunia, Harry's never properly met an adult wizard, and here's one who won't care that he's famous; one who can ease him, and us, back into things."  

There was a silence and Rose held her hand out for the phone. 

Lyle nodded and gave it to her.  

"Pet, It's Mum," Rose greeted. "Now I know that this has been a shock, for all of us, but Harry comes first. I think that we owe it to him to meet this gentleman. We can have him over for dinner while you're here."

"Mum, I don't think -" 

"Harry is a wizard," Rose said sharply, interrupting Petunia. "He trips on the stairs and floats to safety. He's pulled books across the room at bed time when I've brought the wrong one. He's the son of Lily, who turned birthday candles into sparklers when she turned seven, and James, who'd not had a non-magical person in his family in so long that he was bewildered when I used a broom for sweeping while he visited. He's going to join that world, and he'll do it when he's still just a child. Can you take him to Gringotts, their bank? Or to get his wand? Or an owl? He'll need someone." 

"He has you," Petunia replied quickly, then corrected herself. "He has us. That school of his would send someone for the rest of it, wouldn't they? When he's older?"

"And then you'll want to have even less to do with them," Rose said. 

Petunia moved to speak, but Rose pressed onward. "Pet, it's just dinner. Harry is downstairs writing a reply to him while he thinks we aren't paying attention. I can add the invitation to that, and request proof to verify at least one thing that he said in the letter. " 

"And if he kills us all and takes Harry?" Petunia asked. 

"Petunia Evans Dursley," Rose sighed, frustrated.

"Fine," Petunia snapped. "but he hands over his... his wand, when he gets here, he can have back when he leaves. "

"Pet, he clearly knows where we live," Rose said. "If he wanted to hurt us, he'd hardly wait for an invitation."

"Then handing over the wand shouldn't be a problem," Petunia replied easily.

"Fine," Rose said, and she looked up to see Lyle standing in the open doorway with a fond smile. "I'll see you on Friday, Pet, unless you wanted to talk to Harry." 

"I'll call him later. Tell him to be good and get his chores done,” Petunia said. 

“He generally is, and he usually does; I’ll tell him anyway,”Rose said. “Give my love to Dudley.”

Rose hung up the phone and Lyle sat down next her.  He tilted his head, and waited. 

Rose nodded, "He's invited to dinner on Saturday." 

"Awesome!" Harry shouted from the hallway, and the Evans laughed. 

"Come on in, Harry," Rose called. 

Harry looked utterly shameless about his eavesdropping as he made his way into the room. 

"Is he really coming?" he asked. 

"We have to invite him first, and see what he says," Rose told him. "If he does come, we'll have to meet him without you to make sure he's good and safe." 

"What if he's not safe for you?" Harry asked, suddenly concerned. His face scrunched in thought before releasing into wide eyed distress. "I wanna meet him with you. I could protect you!"  

Rose held her arms open, and made space between her legs so that Harry could stand between them. She closed her arms around him as she spoke.

"My lionhearted grandson," she said softly. "Your mum protected you with her life, her body, and her love. I'm her mum. She learned from it me. Your grandfather and I will be fine, and you can protect Dudley upstairs until we're sure that it's safe. Alright?" 

"Nothing's gonna hurt him," Harry vowed. "I'm like mum too. I learned." 

"That's our boy. Are your homework and chores done?" Lyle asked, reaching over and ruffling the boy's hair.

Harry nodded, "I started the rice cooker. Can you come watch so I can cut up the vegetables?"

Lyle nodded, and all three went downstairs to finish making dinner under the gaze of a very bored looking owl. 

* * *

 

 A day or so later, in a very small, and very run-down flat in London, Remus Lupin was reading by candlelight in a chair beside the window. It was a muggle flat, and had lighting, of course, but Remus had spent most of his life with lights that moved or flickered. Even the moonlight shifted.  The steady glow and distant hum of muggle lights was disconcerting. 

He's been tense since sending off the letter to Harry. Had he received it? Had the boy's grandparents let him read it? Lily had been beautiful, bold, and kind. If people talked about James more in the years since their deaths, it was because Lily's loss was a tragedy beyond words. Those who'd been closest to them, or who'd heard Hagrid tell the tale, knew that James had died first. His valiant stand was easier to imagine than hers, tangled as it must have been in grief for James, herself, and her son. Lily, who'd spoken lovingly of her parents had not gotten to finish raising her own child, and the thought of that was heartbreaking. 

She'd spoken well of them, Remus recalled, drawing his mind back to the topic at hand. She'd loved and missed them, but time and grief could change people. There'd been so much of both that he'd almost changed his mind and decided not to write to Harry at all. 

In the end, it had been Dumbledore's words that convinced him. 

"To the best of my knowledge, he's a perfectly happy little boy," Dumbledore had told him over tea. There'd been more, but the 'to the best of my knowledge' had crawled under Remus's skin and itched there for weeks. It wasn't good enough. 

If he'd heard not a single word about Harry James Potter, Remus could have told himself, "he's happy, and being cared for. He doesn't need you." 

'To the best of my knowledge' was hedging and uncertain though. Dumbledore might as well have said, "he could be an unhappy, lonely little boy, but I don't feel the need to make certain of that.  I mean, if sadness killed people you'd be dead thirty times over, wouldn't you?" 

Remus had needed to make certain so, there he was, waiting to see if he'd be allowed to know his best friend's son. 

He was so busy brooding about it that he almost missed Natalis, his owl, as she flew up. He opened the window and let the bird in, taking the letter from her leg and standing to get her a treat and some water.  when she was settled he sat down to read the letter.  As he began to read, he was almost startled to note that the careful, overly large writing must have been done by Harry himself. 

  "Hi Mr. Lupin. I got your letter. Your owl is neat. What is its name? What does it like? Grandmum, and Granddad, and Aunt Pet have to say if I can meet you. Do you have picshures of Da? Can you show me, if they say it’s ok? I have a garden. If they say, I can show you like a trade or if you just want to see it. I'm sorry you're sick. Sick is not fun. I can make soup if Grandmum helps. Could your owl bring you some in a bowl? Bye- Harry"

Underneath that, an older more practiced hand had added a post script.  

"PS: We, Harry's grandmother, his aunt, and I, would like to meet you. Please come to dinner on Saturday, August 29, at 6pm. Bring something that proves what you've said of yourself.  For my daughter's peace of mind, please also be prepared to let my wife hold your wand until you leave after dinner. Just show up, if you don't think an owl would reach us in time. Thank you for reaching out to Harry, Lyle Evans (his grandfather)"   

Remus sighed, cautiously relieved and a little amused. Harry's family was willing to give him a chance. That they wanted to give him that chance while also holding onto his wand was harder to accept, but he supposed that it wouldn't be any less than he'd have been asking of them. Harry didn't need a chance, in the typical way of children throughout history, Harry had received one letter and instantly offered to share what he had and care for him. Harry's parents had retained much of that generosity in adulthood, and Remus suddenly felt a fierce desire to be there to find out if Harry would as well. 

Remus stood again, this time going to his trunk. He'd need to find proper proof, something they would trust, and he only had about four days to find it. 

* * *

 

On Privet drive, Petunia watched from the doorway as her son slept peacefully in his bed. For the first time since she'd taken him with her to leave Harry, she was having doubts about taking Dudley to her childhood home. What made it all the worse was knowing that it wasn't just her decision to make. Dudley was Vernon's son too. 

As if summoned by her thoughts, Vernon stepped out of the living room and Petunia could feel his eyes on her as he watched her from downstairs.  She turned and looked at him. His worry was evident and expected, but never welcome. She didn't want him hurting on her account. She walked down to him and took his hand.

"My Mum and Dad called yesterday, and I need to talk to you about it," Petunia said. 

"The guest room is made up," Vernon replied. "Are you getting him soon?"

Startled, Petunia stepped back and looked at her husband, "No, what-? Never mind, they called because an adult wizard wants to meet Harry, and they wanted me to be involved." 

Petunia walked into the living room with Vernon following behind her.  She tried her best to give him what little information that she had on the man who'd contacted Harry and what it could mean, for good and ill.  

"I just don't know, Vernon," Petunia said finally. "There are protections in place, but how can I trust them? Lily was meant to be protected too. If he's after Harry, he'll have no interest in Dudley, but that doesn't mean he'd be safe. If he's honest, and I leave Dudley behind, he'll not see his grandparents for another month over nothing, and you know how he loves our trips to them. Lupin already knows where Harry lives. Harry may already be in danger, but Dudley isn't.  It feels as though I'm risking them both to bring him, and hurting them both to leave him behind."  

Vernon looked as tired and confused as Petunia felt. She watched his face as he puzzled through it all and then seemed to come to a conclusion.

"I could take him to see Marge," Vernon offered. "So, he'll still see some family. He'd love to meet her other dogs."

"So you don't think that he should come with me," Petunia clarified. 

"I want him safe," Vernon said. Then sighed, "I want you all safe. I'd come with you, but we'd have to bring Dudley or leave him with someone, and anything could happen. Take him for an extra weekend next month to make up for it, or get him a new toy.  We don't know the first thing about this man. Do you have to go?" 

"I need to be sure that Harry will be fine," Petunia said. "My parents are so thrilled by that world, I think they forget it's not just Harry's world or Lily's, it's... it's Voldemort's and his followers' world too. It's dangerous and barely natural.  I don't know that they'll see him for what he is, and not just what he could do for Harry."

"Call me before and after you meet this Lupin fellow," Vernon requested. "Is there somewhere else that Harry could stay until you're sure it's safe? Maybe your mother could take him somewhere? I don't like this at all." 

"I'll call, Vernon, I promise," Petunia said. "I don't like it either. God, that tripe in his letter about spending six years thinking Harry better without him.  Nothing's changed. What is he playing at?" 

Vernon had no answer for that, and so he settled in and allowed Petunia to vent the last of her frustration. The next day they'd have to tell Dudley that his trip to see his grandparents had been postponed. As Petunia paced and ranted worriedly, he hoped that that would be the worst of the news he'd have to give his son in the coming weeks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you liked the chapter, thanks to everyone for reading and leaving kudos. If you're looking for something else to read while waiting for the next chapter, consider the "When the Sky is Starless" series that I co-write with Myth979, which is set in the marauders era. 
> 
> Remus's owl, Natalis, is named for a priest/abbot written of by Gerald of Wales. Natalis is said to have cursed a man and a woman of Ossory to turn into wolves every seven years.


	3. Chapter 3

Lyle Evans was sitting in his study, watching his grandson's chest rise and fall in sleep. Harry had drifted off in one of those odd positions that are only comfortable for children. His arms were spread out with his head laying on one arm that had bent, just slightly at the elbow. One of his small socked feet was propped up on the chair as his other leg was left swinging, his foot not far from the floor. 

Lyle had been reading with Harry while they waited but Harry had started to drift off, dozing briefly before jumping up to ask if Petunia'd arrived, and when Dudley would be coming back. Lyle had taken an extra turn reading aloud so that the boy would go on to sleep. 

Over the week, he'd found himself thinking more about Harry's fame than he had ever before, wondering what a wizard would expect to find when they met him.  What sort of boy defeated a dark lord before his second birthday? Surely such a boy would charge the air around him, leaving the scent of ozone and faint sparks of light in his wake. Surely, he'd be wise, and strong even in childhood. 

Lyle laughed softly to himself. The only time Harry had ever sparkled was that time when he was five, when he'd knocked a container of glitter onto his head at school. Smart as a whip, but more kind than wise by far, Harry was extraordinary in that way that most children were; in his capacity for love and joy. 

Harry was so much like his mother that it made Lyle's eyes water, even after six years. 

"You ok, Granda?" A sleepy voice startled Lyle from his memories. "Aunt Pet here?"

"Not yet, Harry, it should be soon," Lyle said, then backtracked adding. "I'm fine."

Harry squirmed and turned until he could see Lyle. When Harry stilled again, he was lying on his stomach with his head propped up on his hands.  

“Did my da like it here?” Harry asked, apropos of nothing. 

Lyle smiled all the same, replying, “I think he’d have liked a shack on a rock in the sea, so long as your mother was there. Here was more comfortable than that would have been.” 

“But did he really like it?” Harry asked.

“I think he liked it here a lot,” Lyle said. “Times were hard, I think, in their world. Mr. Lupin mentioned a war, remember? Even then, they were soldiers. Here was peaceful and happy. It was easy to like.”

"They were soldiers?" Harry asked confused. "You said a bad man, Vol-de-mort came to our house. The green light..." 

Lyle started at that. They'd never told Harry about any green light, but he talked about it sometimes, as if it were part of that story. He both wanted and feared to know what it had been, and why his grandson should remember that, and forget so many precious things about his early life. 

"We've talked about how the magical world is a secret," Lyle reminded Harry. "That means their wars are secret too, and being a secret soldier in a hidden war is something different than what you've learned about in school. " 

Lyle paused before continuing. 

"The secret was like a house," he said, leaning forward and resting his arm on his knee to get closer to Harry's level. "First they came inside. Everyone in the wide front rooms could know and hide or fight, or just live, but the rest of the world – the people without magic, outside of the house - couldn't see.  Inside, Lily and James fought evil. Sometimes they won.  Sometimes they could slip outside for fresh air, and leave the fight behind, but soon evil got stronger. It set its sights on them. They couldn't come outside because evil would follow, so they went further in, like going into a bedroom. That was more secret, some people could come in, but not all people, and sometimes Lily and James could come out and fight but they had to be careful. Eventually they had to go to the most secret, the most inside, and hide there."

"The loo," Harry giggled. 

Lyle rolled his eyes and nodded, "ok, the loo. Your house was like the loo, or a closet. Very deep inside the secrets, but someone told, and he came for them there. They were soldiers until they couldn't be anymore, because they had to go further in, and be something else." 

"What?" Harry asked, his green eyes going wide behind his glasses.

"Parents," Lyle said. "They had to have and protect you."

"They didn't want to be soldiers anymore?" Harry asked amazed. 

"They wanted to love you," Lyle corrected. "They chose you, over war and the outside world."

The words hug there for a bit as Harry seemed to be processing that.

"Good or bad?" Harry asked, squirming up and back and down all at once until he was sitting up in the chair again. He was very focused all of a sudden on his socks, brown ones with white streaks like roots. 

Lyle sat and waited. 

When Harry turned his head towards his grandfather, impatient and starting to claw and the cushion on either side of him with his small fingers, Lyle gave him a wide slow smile. 

"The very, very best," Lyle said, and laughed a little when Harry blushed and pressed a smiling face into the couch cushion.  

The sound of the doorbell, just a moment later, sent Harry running. Lyle got up more slowly, and followed him to greet Petunia. 

* * *

 

"You didn't have to wait up, Mum, you know I have a key," Petunia scolded lightly as she hung her coat on a hook near the door. It'd been raining lightly since she'd left the train station, and the cab driver had stopped a house or two down at her request. She'd wanted the brief moment to clear her head. 

"But then I'd miss my girl coming home," Rose said brightly, "and we couldn't have that." 

They could hear footsteps, the sudden driving discord of Harry in a rush. The women shared a knowing look, turning in time to catch Harry slowing mid-step as he entered the living room. 

Usually at this point, Dudley would perk up some at Petunia's side and amble over to his cousin, greeting him with a hug and pulling Harry back towards Petunia. 

Harry paused, thrown off by Dudley's absence. He stared at Petunia from the doorway until Lyle came in and pushed him closer with a hand on his back. 

"'Lo Aunt Pet," Harry said, looking up at her. "How was the train?" 

"Fine," Petunia replied shortly, looking away. She reached into the pocket of her coat and pulled out a folded bit of paper. "Dudley sent this. You should read it in your room." 

Harry accepted the letter, and took a step back. Petunia made herself look at him properly. He'd grown a little, in the last month, not much, but enough that his clothes fit slightly differently. His eyes were bright, and his smile was tentative. This was a little boy who'd gotten a letter by owl, she thought, part of her still struggling to accept it. It would be far from his last, and tomorrow a wizard was coming to meet them so that he could be a part of Harry's life, or end it, or use it. She found herself realizing how small the changes were, that would take him from the child in front of her, to the one that would be leaving on a bright red train in four years' time. He'd been promised a life among wizards, wizards that could take him, or end him, or use him. How were her parents ok with that? Why couldn't Harry be a gardener, or a fireman even? Surely that would be safer.

Suddenly, Petunia realized that something else was off. Harry hadn't hugged her as he usually would have. Petunia wondered if he would have if Dudley had been there. Her arm twitched and she wanted to reach out touch Harry somehow, but before she could settle on a move, the boy spoke. 

"He's safe?" Harry asked. "In case Mr. Lupin ends up bad?" 

"Safe," Petunia repeated, not so much answering as startled by the blunt question. "Go to bed, Harry. It's late." 

Harry's face flashed with an odd expression before he turned and darted off.  Lyle moved to follow him but Rose put a hand on his shoulder. 

"My turn, dear," Rose said, sounding less pleased than she had a moment before. She gave Petunia a look, a very slight narrowing of her eyes, which were Harry's, and had been Lily's. Shame hit Petunia as if her mother had cast some sort of spell, but she couldn't think how to fix what she'd done. 

Petunia turned to her father. 

"It's good to see you," she said. "Have things been alright here?" 

"They have," Lyle said. "They always are. Harry's been drawing pictures of owls all week, and getting his garden ready for visitors." 

"And you?" Petunia asked. She picked up her bag from the floor and the two walked upstairs to Petunia's room. 

"Same as always," Lyle said. "Your mother and I take our walks and have our tea. We split the chores as we have since you were a girl. Harry helps with what he can. The other day I found the laundry room clean as the day we bought it after Rose told Harry she was a touch sore from toting the baskets." 

Petunia smiled in spite of herself, but it fell as she realized how he must have cleaned the room. 

"That sweater of hers that he says is too itchy hasn't been seen since then," Lyle added, "but it's a small price to pay. "

Petunia put her bag down on the bed, and sat next to it. Lyle kissed her forehead. 

"Good night, Pet." He said. "Try not to worry too much."

 The murmur of laughter through the wall that she shared with Harry seemed to answer for her. 

Petunia nodded and opened her bag as Lyle closed the door. The first thing she did, was put a framed picture of herself with Vernon and Dudley on the bedside table. After that, she dressed for bed and went to sleep, content that Rose had seen to Harry. 

Unseen, Harry was pressing his ear to the wall between them.  He didn't hear anything, and he reluctantly put his head down on his pillow, and went to sleep. 

* * *

 

The next morning Petunia came downstairs and saw Harry loading bread into a toaster. Behind him, on the table were what looked like wedges from two or three pealed oranges, and there was a kettle on the stove, starting to warm. 

Unsure of what to say, she sat in a chair and watched. Harry had set up four plates with jam-covered toast and orange wedges by the time the kettle sang. Harry brought her a cup, saucer, and tea bag. The kettle whistled on the stove for a minute or two longer before Petunia's mum came in and picked it up.  She poured some of the water into Petunia's cup before setting up her own. Then she finished making breakfast, thanking Harry with a kiss on his forehead and an extra spoonful of sugar in his tea. 

Petunia turned from them to greet her father, ignoring the feeling of small eyes staring intently in her direction. 

When everyone had eaten, Petunia stood and started gathering up dishes to wash. Harry followed behind her for a few steps before asking, "Can we go to the park after I read with Grandda?" 

Petunia hesitated, glancing at her parents, but they were both suddenly deeply engaged in conversation. 

 He looked so hopeful that Petunia felt herself wanting to give in, but it was strange. She'd not been alone with Harry in a while, because Dudley was always there too.  

She nodded, despite her misgivings, and Harry smiled before running off to get the paper and meet Lyle in the study. 

Petunia passed the next hour by calling Vernon to let him know that she'd gotten in, and was alright. Dudley was having a splendid time playing with Marge's dogs, and she even got to talk with him some. Marge took up a bit of time as well, being nosy about Petunia's reasons for making the trip to her parents on her own when she was only going to turn around and bring him with her in a week or two. 

When Harry had finished reading and put his shoes on, the two were off. They walked together to the park not far from the Evans's home, where Petunia had played with Lily when they were small. 

When they arrived, she watched as the boy made swift progress toward the swings. She held back at a safe distance and watched as he kicked his way into the air. 

"You can swing, too," Harry called out. "Grandmum does."

Petunia was going to have words with her mother, she decided, but she gave in and sat down on a swing next to Harry. 

"What do you want to be when you grow up?" Petunia asked after a while.  She scanned around with eyes, half expecting Severus to pop up. Was he even still alive? Her mother had told her he'd gone dark. Perhaps he'd been killed. 

"I don't know," Harry said back. "What'd mum want to be?" 

"At your age?" Petunia asked. She thought and then answered, "a pilot, so she could be in aeroplanes and fly and meet people from around the world." 

Harry laughed and swung higher. 

"I want to fly too!" Harry shouted, and Petunia looked around hastily but no one seemed to pay him any attention. 

Eventually, Harry got down from the swings and ran off to kick a football around with some school friends when they showed up with their mothers and siblings.  Petunia watched fondly as he played like a normal child, and wondered for the thousandth time why things should ever have to change. 

On the way back from the park, in a whisper that was still quite loud, Harry asked, "Do they have football at Hogwarts?" 

"Shhh," Petunia scolded. "You'll find out soon enough." 

"I can ask Mr. Lupin, if it's safe," Harry replied. "Did I tell you about his bird? And he has nice pen-man-ship, Granda says. Which means he writes nice..."

Petunia schooled her features and settled in for a long afternoon. 

* * *

 

Remus Lupin looked around as he tried to orient himself in his new surroundings.  He didn't often apparate to new locations anymore, but he hadn't wanted to travel by muggle means and risk being late. 

Checking the bag at his side, he stepped out of the stand of trees he'd arrived in and walked through the small park he'd found when researching the area. Everything that he needed was there, he just had to get to the house. 

He tried not to think much as he walked through the pleasant neighborhood. Thoughts of James and Lily would come when he met their son, he didn't have to entertain them just then, in the warm sunlight and walking past families coming home for the evening. He couldn't dwell on loss and risk making Harry feel that he only cared because of his parents. That was assuming he even got to meet the boy. It was a bit maddening, and he was walking into the situation alone. 

 Sirius would.... No.  Peter should have.... Equally dangerous. Harry would want to know so much, and Remus's memory was a minefield and maybe it'd be better to turn around. This was a good place. It would be lovely to grow up here. Harry didn't need....

Remus glanced up just in time to see a flash of dark skin and darker hair in the window of a nearby home. It was like seeing a ghost. It had to be Harry. He'd seen Remus now, and Harry didn't need another person who should have been able to care for him taken away too soon. 

Walking up to the door he knocked. A moment later the door opened, and an older, red haired woman with green eyes and a kind face met him with a reserved smile. 

"Remus Lupin," he introduced himself reflexively. "You have a nice home." 

"Rose Evans," the woman replied. "I'm sorry, but for our safety-" 

"Here it is," Remus said giving her his wand. "Please, be careful with it." 

Rose nodded and stepped back, letting Remus step into the living-room.  Remus's eyes settled on a man with brown hair. 

"Lyle, " He said, then gestured to a woman with blond hair and a somewhat long neck. "and Petunia Dursley, our daughter and Harry's aunt. What proof can you show us to support your being allowed to see our Harry?" 

The four of them were standing not far from the door and Remus felt his heart stop at the sudden revelation that if he failed to convince them, he'd never see Harry, and they'd likely move and he'd lose him again for at least four years. 

Breathing deeply, he reached into his bag. 

"James almost punched me for this picture," Remus told them. "It was taken in our seventh year, and I swear to you as I did to him, it was the spell work that put that look on my face." 

Remus pulled out wizard photograph in a smooth black frame. In the image, Lily cast a spell that sent flames shaped like birds into the air while Remus looked on amazed and almost besotted. The figures kept moving and Lily and Remus shared a smile. 

"She gave me this picture at the Gryffindor House party on our last evening at Hogwarts, look at the back."

Remus opened the frame and turned the picture over. In Lily's handwriting, in ink that shifted from red to gold and back, was written, "Hope you find everything in life that makes you look like this- Lily Evans". 

Lyle had inhaled quickly, and Rose brought a hand to her mouth, her eyes watering. 

"Even if you don't let me see Harry," Remus said. "He should see that. But I also have a letter from her, from when they were in hiding, and a picture from their wedding. I’d been sick recently, so I sat in the back and only stayed long enough to see them briefly at the reception. I have this, too." 

Remus pulled out another picture, this one was of James as he put Harry into Remus's arms. Remus's face was lit with the same sort of awed joy that'd lingered in his face in the other image. 

"Please, believe me when I say that I'd never hurt any child, particularly not Harry," Remus concluded, then he watched their faces, and waited. 

Rose reached out for the second picture, and Remus handed it to her, watching as she looked and then passed it to Petunia.

Rose and Lyle shared a look, and then both of them looked to Petunia. The war that played out on her face gave Remus hope and dashed it a dozen times in the space of a minute, but in the end, she nodded. 

"Come on in. Let's get you something to drink," Rose said, inviting him over to sit down. "We need to get our story straight before he comes down. A united front is always best with children."  

Remus felt a weight lift off of his chest as he sat down, feeling so relieved that he almost missed the sound of small feet darting upstairs just after Petunia expressed plans to go check on Harry. 

He didn't though, and neither had Rose, if the fond exasperation on her face was any indication. 

"He's too brave by half, a bit of a handful, and an eavesdropping little thing to boot. Last chance to back out, Mr. Lupin," Rose teased, offering him a glass of water. 

"It’s Remus, please," Remus said. He could hear the whispered conversation upstairs as Harry tried to convince his aunt to let him come down. "And I have the feeling that it's already far too late for that." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, and for those who've given kudos and comments. The encouragement helps so much. Next Chapter: Harry meets Remus, and my tentative goal is to try and get it out in about 2 weeks. As always it'll be up as soon as I can get it written. Hope you liked this one, and Hope everyone's ok. We've been living in interesting times, between fires, floods, shootings, and everything else. Stay safe and don't despair, even the darkest nights end.


	4. Chapter 4

"He's still here," Harry said. The boy leaned oddly in his little chair, trying to see the doorway behind Petunia as if that would tell him anything, as if he'd then be able to see around the corner and down the stairs. He couldn’t, she reassured herself. At least he hadn’t ever said anything about being able to see through walls... "That means he's safe, right? I just wanna meet him."

"Soon enough," Petunia replied shortly. "Stay put. You'll meet him at dinner."

"But-" Harry began. Petunia cut him off. 

"If you misbehave, you'll have dinner in your room and not meet him at all," she scolded. "Don't make a fuss." 

"He's here to see _me_ ," Harry insisted, but he stopped leaning and turned to face his desk. "How long till dinner?"   

"As long as it takes," Petunia said, "and longer if I have to be up here making certain that you don't sneak down. Now do as you've been told, and wait for someone to call for you." 

Petunia watched for his nod, and the waited a moment as he picked up a box of crayons and put one to the drawing that he'd started earlier. Satisfied that he'd obey her, she turned and walked out of his room and back downstairs. 

Her parents and Lupin turned their heads towards her as she returned.

“He’s settled for the moment,” she said, “but he is his mother’s son, so it won’t hold for long.“ 

“We’ll get straight to it then," Rose said smiling and inviting Petunia to sit.

“What have you been planning?” Lyle asked, turning to Remus.

“Planning might be too firm a word for it,“ Lupin said affably. Petunia, at ease in spite of herself, began to take in his appearance. He was thin and his clothes were shabby. There was something careworn at the edges of him that did more to back his story than even the picture and note from her sister had. This was a man who'd been to the wars, literally. 

Setting aside her examination, she realized that he had begun speaking again.

“… To the park, or his school. We should know each other a bit better before attempting somewhere magical. Eventually, maybe, I should take him to places that relate to his parents, their house perhaps or... well in any case that would be when he’s a bit older.“

Petunia felt a rush of anger that startled her. Why should this stranger take a child to see places that had been special to Lily? It didn't matter that Lily had likely died angry with Petunia. The thought of it irked her nearly as much as the concern that she actually put forth. 

“And we’re to just let you take him off alone?” she snapped. 

“You’re welcome to join,” Lupin reassured. “He might feel better with someone he trusts anyway.“

“One of us could join you, “ Lyle said. “Petunia is only here for a weekend each month.”

Petunia tensed at that but couldn’t argue the point, and she refused to bring up her phone calls with the boy as if she cared what Lupin thought of her relationship with her nephew. Lupin regarded her curiously; wondering, perhaps why Harry didn’t live with her, or why she was a part of this discussion at all when she was around so little. She ignored his unvoiced questions, turning to her mother.

“Are you certain that it wouldn’t be too much for you?” Petunia asked.

“I take him to school in the park often enough on my own,” Rose pointed out. “Help will only make the task easier. Perhaps you can meet them and go along if they’ll be adventuring in London? That would be closer to you.“

“Yes, Mum,” Petunia said dutifully. The thought of this strange man taking Harry anywhere still unsettled her, but they weren’t going on any 'adventures' today. There would be time to make her parents see sense.

“Now course you’ll have to tell us when you plan on coming, and what you mean to do. Harry has friends and school. You’ll need to respect that,” Rose told Lupin. 

“Of course,“ Lupin agreed. “I don’t want to take him from his life. I hope only to be a part of it."

There were other rules. Some of them were general, and would have applied to any adult spending time with Harry ("only one sweet a day, after lunch so that the sugar doesn't keep him up"). Others were more specific to Lupin ("no more than two hours without contact, we'll give you or Harry coins for payphones."). The most important rules were unspoken. Petunia held herself back from demanding blood pacts or vows on the lives of whomever the man had left stating that he would not take Lily's son from her. Petunia refused to think to hard on the fact that this was something that she feared, or that Harry could still be taken from her after she'd given him to her parents over half a decade before. 

“Then this should work out brilliantly,” Lyle said once they'd agreed the rules. “Is there anything that you need to know from us before you meet him?”

Lupin shook his head. He seemed calm to Petunia's eyes, but he clasped his hands together after replying.

Petunia hadn’t been the only one to notice.

“No need to be nervous,” Rose said kindly, “he likes you already. You’ve got a friend for life in that one.“

“Then he’s his father son too," Lupin said, sending Petunia a quick smile. She ignored it as he asked, "May I see him now?“

* * *

Harry was putting the finishing touches on the picture of a dog. It was a large black one like the worn stuffed toy that lived on his dresser.

“I’m going to meet him, Padfoot,” Harry whispered. “He looks nice.”

Taking the silence for agreement, he sighed heavily. He’d started eyeing the door and contemplating another attempt at spying, when he heard his grandfather.

“Harry, you can come down now,” the man called.

Harry jumped up and tried to smooth his hair down with both hands. He gave padfoot another pat on the head for luck, then ran to the top of the stairs. He walked down, wanting to make a good impression.

He stopped as he entered the front room. Mr. Lupin was standing and looking at him. He was smiling a little. His grandparents and aunt were seated, but they were still watching him. Harry felt his face warm and took a step back looking down with uncharacteristic shyness.

"Hi Mr. Lupin," he said to his shoes, "thank you for coming.”

“It’s no trouble,” Mr. Lupin said. "Your father would likely say that I've arrived late by a few years. Call me Remus, if you don't mind." 

"Yes, Remus," Harry said, peaking up through his fringe. 

Remus took a deep breath and Harry felt better knowing that the older man was nervous too.

"I saw you from the window," Remus said, more quietly. "It's nice to have a proper look. You've grown since I saw you last."

Harry stepped forward, drawn in by the gentleness in Remus's voice, and the sadness that made his hands itch to.... to fix it? But how? 

Walking up to the man, he only paused briefly when Remus knelt so that he'd be at eye level.  With the new vantage point, Harry saw the red harsh lines of newer scratches on Remus's skin, some overlapping with faded scars. 

"I was a baby then, right? And there was a war. That was a long time ago," Harry said. "Days and months and years even, why're you hurt now? Is there another one?"

Concern overrode the last of his shyness and Harry reached out and touched a scratch that crossed the bridge of Remus's nose.

"None here," Remus said, looking around as if checking for wars in the living room. He took Harry's hand and tickled his palm lightly. Harry felt warm inside and laughed. "No wars will trouble you or me tonight. They're from that illness that I mentioned. They'll heal fine in time. Now, I believe you proposed a trade? I've pictures to show you." 

Harry beamed, looking around Remus to his grandmum, grandda, and aunt. 

"I can show him my garden?" he asked.  

"If you take my first flower with you," his grandmother replied. 

Harry felt his sudden joy dim at the look on his aunt's face. Harry didn't understand what he'd done to make Aunt Pet cross with him, but it must have something. She hadn't told him to 'be good' once, and she'd been cold with him, more than she'd been since he could remember. His grandmother had told him that Aunt Pet was having a hard time and to be patient, but being patient was diff-ic-ult. 

When he though on it later in life, just a few summers down the road, it would occur to him that his aunt's kindness was like the sweetener in ice cream, balancing the cold and rewarding him for tolerating it. It was different than sustaining warmth that he got from his grandmum, and part of him knew without needing to wonder that his mum had loved him warmly as well. That his aunt hadn’t been able to do the same was endlessly confusing, and sometimes, though he tried to take what he was given and do his part as he should, sometimes it hurt. In the moment, he just hoped that whatever had made his aunt angry hadn't made her too angry to stand in the garden with him and Remus.  

Harry looked in askance at his aunt, who gave a short nod. Harry turned back to Remus, who drew his attention and held it firmly with the aid of the moving pictures that he'd brought. The image of Lily casting the fire-birds was Harry's favorite. 

"I like those lights," Harry said, not looking away from the image. "The green ones are scary."

Remus dropped the picture, gasping a little. He opened his mouth as if to ask something, but shook his head instead, picking up the picture and telling Harry that he could keep it, if he promised to take care of it and let his grandparents and aunt keep it safe for him.  

The two of them got so caught up in looking at pictures, that Harry was startled when his aunt ordered him to go wash his hands so that he could eat. 

Not wanting to make her angrier, he darted off to obey. 

* * *

Watching him go, Remus turned to Rose and Lyle. He stood and allowed some of the wonder and sadness that he'd suppressed to enter his expressions.

"That face," he said slowly. "Those eyes. Merlin, but it's a shock."

Rose and Lyle nodded, as Petunia continued staring blankly at him while somehow seeming to pretend that he'd left the room. 

Remus continued, "His heart is too big for him already. That puts him a step up from James, I suppose. He was like my brother but James's head was swollen when I met him. You've done well with Harry." 

"He's a nice boy," Lyle replied. "It's not always easy. He's young and he has his rough patches, but he's had three or four guardians for most of his life. Besides, he's grown up in a home with two people who have to rely on his help from time to time. Not much room for arrogance in all that."

"I'd suppose not," Remus said, though part of him wondered suddenly of the responsibility that James had taken on in becoming an animagus had helped to rid him of the worst of his pride. 

There was a moment's silence before Rose spoke again. 

"He talks about green lights sometimes, usually around their deaths. Is the light what-?" Rose asked. 

Remus felt sick.  

"I don't know," Remus said. "It could be. But there are plenty of green spells. He could be remembering anything." 

Harry returned. 

"All washed and dried," he announced to the room at large. "Can I show Remus the garden while the food warms up? I won't touch anything."

Rose nodded, and Harry led him further into the house, through the kitchen, and out of a door into the back garden. He got Remus to open the doors, allowing him to hold to his promise. Remus heard Petunia behind him. 

He didn't know what to make of the woman. She was distant from Harry, but fiercely protective of the boy. Harry had seemed a bit wary of her, but he did look to her for permission, grouping her in with his grandparents. She clearly had a role in making decisions about the boy, which, in the end, meant that Remus would have to be as polite as possible to her. It would be much easier if she'd stop glaring at him like Severus during their last two years of Hogwarts. 

The garden was lovely. The sun was setting, but Remus's could see more than average, and bright colors of the flowers made him smile. The fresh air helped clear his head.

"Where's the part that you care for?" Remus asked, looking down at him. 

Harry beamed and led him to a small, marked section near the back. Remus could smell the herbs and flowers before he reached them and he smiled. 

"Who helped you decide what to plant?" Remus asked.

"Grandda," Harry said, and Remus noticed the hint of an accent that Harry had picked up from his grandfather. "He gave me the seeds, says they're wishes, and he won't tell me what they are. I have to grow 'em as Grandmum says and try an' find 'em in a book." 

Remus thought about what he could smell, and see in the fading light. Thyme, rosemary, lovage, sage, and chrysanthemums. Even with how little he knew Harry's grandparents, their wishes for him were clear, and kind. 

"Have you worked out any of them?" Remus asked.

"Just the mums," Harry shrugged. "I don't get it. They want me to have another mum? Silly. 'Can't go down the shops and get one, can I?'" 

Remus laughed and shook his head, wondering who Harry was quoting, or what. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw petunia eyeing the little garden as if she'd never seen it before. 

"When did you plant it?" Remus asked.

"Last summer," Harry replied eagerly. "For my six birthday."

Harry set off on a story about it, and Remus was listening, but he also wondering that Petunia had never known there was a message hidden for Harry in his little garden. Remus caught her eye, and for once she didn't look angry, just a bit confused. It lasted for just a moment before a tap on the doors to the garden summoned them inside to eat. 

 It was good meal, and Harry's insistence on helping his grandparents serve gave Remus a chance to watch him with his family. The Evanses were a fun mix of sharp witted, fun-loving, and polite. They were good hosts and even offered harmless but sweet stories of Harry as a small child over their meal. By the time deserts was finished, Remus had no doubt that Harry was loved, and well cared for. If Harry's grandparents had been even ten years younger, he might have been content to give up plans of making a space in Harry's life. As it was though, Harry's future seemed uncertain, and Remus was more determined than ever to see his plan through. Petunia Dursley could glare at him all she liked. 

When it was time for him to leave, he went down to his knee in the living room; meeting Harry at his level for a final time that day. 

"You are, or will be, the best of your parents," Remus told Harry, "all the good things that they had to give the world, they gave to us in you. Let your family take care of you, and help when you can."

Harry just hugged him, and turned to his grandmother making grabby hands.

Rose laughed and handed Harry a cylindrical object with a lid on it. Harry in turn gave it to Remus. 

"It's soup 'cause you're sick," Harry said, not unkindly. Then his face seemed to expand and contract into itself before he added. "It won't help your scratches! I'm sorry. I didn't know before. I can get a plaster?" 

"I can fix them with magic," Remus said, patting Harry's shoulder and trying to sooth Harry's sudden distress at not having what he thought Remus might need.      

"Don't worry," Remus said. "Thank you for the soup. I feel better already. I'll send Natalis with a letter soon, alright? It was very nice to meet you." 

Harry waved, and then Lyle took him upstairs. Rose returned his wand, and Remus nearly offered to do washing up by magic but the growing anxiety in Petunia's face dissuaded him. 

Remus walked outside into the warm evening. emboldened by how well it had gone, he looked up to the window where he'd seen Harry before. 

Sure enough, the boy was there. Remus gave him a smile and a wave. Then, after a careful look to ensure that no one else was peeking out of their windows, he raised his wand and apparated home.  The cut off sound of Harry's excitement, muted by glass and distance, was a happy memory that stayed with him, easing him to sleep that night as much as his full stomach did.

When he rose the next morning, Remus Lupin went to a muggle library. It was time to properly plan his first outings with Harry. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was late, and I'm sorry, but i do hope that you enjoyed it. Thank you so much for reading this, kudos, and for any comments; I see them all even if it takes a bit to respond. Next up... a little bit of a time jump, likely, some light adventuring, more likely, and ...some character growth? Time will tell. I'm really having fun with this series guys, so even if it takes me a bit, know that the next chapter is on its way. Thanks again!


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5 

When Lupin left, Petunia watched her nephew. He raced upstairs, yelled with excitement at something, and then hurried back down to help with the washing up.  

Harry seemed no worse for the visit, and they were all still alive. She couldn’t understand why he’d taken six years to look in on Harry. She rather hoped he’d be satisfied to have seen the boy and be content to go another six years before contacting him again. He hadn't done anything malicious though, and he'd done as they asked. If he was plotting kidnap or murder there'd been opportunities. They couldn't have made him leave, or fought him once they'd given back his wand. They couldn't have forced him to give it up if he'd been unwilling.  

Walking into the kitchen, she saw that Harry had put the dishes in the sink and was wiping down the table with a damp cloth. Petunia went to the sink and started washing.  

Glancing out at the garden she wondered about what she’d learned from listening to Harry talk to Lupin.  She hadn't expected to learn anything about her nephew that night, and yet... 

“Why didn’t you tell me that the plants in your garden were a message?” Petunia asked, turning to look at him.  

Harry looked up from his task, tilting his head as though it were obvious and he couldn’t decide if she was testing him somehow.  

“Well?” Petunia prompted.  

“It’s like a fairy story, kind of,” Harry said at last, “and you don’t like those.” 

Petunia blinked at him for a moment before turning back to the dishes. Her parents had done things like that for her, and for Lily, when they’d been younger. It was a kind gesture, an old-fashioned one and not magical in the slightest.  She didn't say any of that, though. What she said was something that had been on her mind rather a lot in the last few days.  

“You’re a wizard,” Petunia said softly. “And your mum was, and you father. You’re 'like a fairy story, kind of'.”  

Harry dimmed as if someone had turned a knob. He seemed to shrink into himself, making smaller more tentative sweeps with the cloth.  

Out of habit, Petunia looked to the kitchen door. Part of her was expecting to see her parents there, maybe coming in to look at her in that sad, disapproving way. They weren't there. For once they were out of range to fix what Petunia had done, to say what she couldn't, to be who he needed.   

Lupin came to mind, but she ruthlessly cut down the idea before it had fully formed. Lupin was a stranger, albeit one who'd known her sister. This was her nephew, and her discomfort around at least half of everything that he would grow to be was causing him pain.   

"You're a good boy," Petunia said. The words felt flat and useless, so she tried again. "You are loving, and kind. You are helpful. You are generous. The best of  _them_  in time, as he said. The best  _you_ , in time, if you try very, very hard to be. You're also a wizard. You can be all of those things."  

"But you don't like it," Harry replied, confused and frustrated even as he flushed from his aunt's words. 

If it hadn't been for the days of mounting concern, the shock of seeing her sister as she'd never seen her- doing magic that could be called beautiful with stunning ease, the unprocessed realization that the Harry that Remus lupin had held in the picture was a younger one than she'd ever seen and unscarred in so many ways.... Petunia was not a woman given to spilling her heart without stress tipping it like a shaken table overturns a glass. Her world had been shaken though, so on she dripped; hoping that this latest and most precious offshoot to be raised in her mother's garden would take in enough to grow on. 

"I don't like that you'll have to go to them someday, though you must," Petunia said. "I don't like that your mother went to them once and never came back. I don't like that I can't go after you, or before you, to show you the way. I'm afraid that there will be monsters, Harry, because I've read fairy stories."  

 _I'm afraid they'll make you a monster too,_  she thought.  

"I can win," Harry said, and his shrinking from before was reversing. He stood to his full height, still small, but confident. "Gotta read to the end, the scary bits are just a part. I'll win." 

Petunia wanted to argue, but of course she'd just managed to talk the sadness off of his face. She was in no hurry to put it back. Besides, she was empty now, a good, clear empty. She wasn't ready to fill up with worry again so soon.  

"Alright," she said solemnly. "I'll try to be less scared."  

Coming to terms with her sister and their past, with her parents, all of that seemed easy as she stared down this task. Letting herself feel something for Lily's child, letting Harry know and love her own child, those had just been the foothills. She wondered if she'd ever be able to climb the mountain that was her fear. 

Harry tilted his head at her then ran over to hug her and help with the dishes.  

Outside the kitchen, just out of sight, Rose hugged Lyle. She didn't cry, but she felt that she might. Hope had variable definitions some days, and letting go to pass on hope was still letting go. She felt tired in her bones, but warm. There were two good chances that their boy would have someone who could see him through to adulthood. There were three or four even, if she added the possibility that she'd live an unreasonably long, spectacularly healthy life, and the possibility that he'd build a family that could sustain him and love him once he got to school.   

Walking back into the living room, she sat down with the picture of Lily and watched her youngest daughter, moving and alive, and happy. She watched and smiled, knowing that her youngest girl had inspired awe in a world full of wonders. 

* * *

Six months later, Remus Lupin was walking up the road to the Evans' home. It was funny how quickly the path had become familiar. Already every step brought a memory. Slowing down he could almost see Harry running ahead of him, delighted to have shown Remus another part of his small, precious world.   

He and Harry had been to the park, to the library, to the local museums of art and science, and even to see a film. It'd worked out wonderfully. Remus, long used to blending in with the muggle world, dressed appropriately with little effort. Harry's grandparents and at times his aunt, accompanied them to some outings, but were also content to send them off with change for a payphone and the reminder to check in.  

Harry was an adventurous and curious child, but growing up with his grandparents had made him attentive. Remus noticed that in the days following the full-moon, when he was tired and sporting healing wounds, Harry quickly slowed to match his pace, and offered to color in the park, or work out in the garden. He could see the disappointment in Harry's face when he accepted the change in plans, but he couldn't help needing to rest from time to time.     

This time, Remus felt fairly good. The moon had passed and he'd taken the time that he needed to rest. He'd even managed to get some work, subbing in for the editor to a defense journal who'd been out on vacation, so for once he'd been able to afford a healing potion. The potions were more expensive but less tiring than the spells, which could prove self-defeating when he had more than a few superficial wounds.  

"Now I just have to get through this lunch," Remus murmured to himself as he came to the correct door. He rang the bell out of politeness, but Remus could already hear Harry's thundering footsteps as he ran down the stairs. Though he couldn't hear, he could imagine that they were echoed by a slower heavier set. Harry's cousin only rarely "adventured" with them. Petunia preferred to have Dudley go off with his grandparents, during their outings. 

The door opened, and Petunia stood before him. To her credit, she seemed only a little anxious. That was rather amazing when he took the days plans into account.  

 Harry ducked around his aunt and hugged him, saying, "Hi, Remus. Did Natalis get back home safe?"   

"'lo Harry," Remus replies. "She's fine. Always seems a bit bigger after she's seen you.  Must stop letting her eat so much of your breakfast."  

Harry's eyes went wide.  

"But she flies so far! I don't want her to be hungry," Harry argued. "Can she hunt even with my letter on her?"  

"She can," Remus said, not for the first time. He looked up and met Petunia's eyes. She'd been looking at Harry with an amused fondness that lingered in her face for an instance before settling into indifference.  

"Now, can we sit and go over the plan for a moment?" Remus asked.  

"Yeah!" Harry shouted, and bolted off towards the chairs in the living room.  

Only then did Remus see Dudley, hanging back by the door to the hallway with Lyle at his back.  

Remus offered a wave, which Dudley returned shyly.  

Lyle stepped forward and clasped Remus's shoulder in greeting, before joining Harry and his aunt in the living-room. Remus followed them, allowing Dudley to decide for himself if he wanted to be in on their plans.  

Sitting down, he turned to Harry and asked, "Where are we going, do you remember?"  

"The Leaky Cauldron," Harry pronounced carefully before adding, "Wizard inn, but we'll be in the pub bit downstairs." 

"Then?" Remus prompted.  

"Bookstore," Harry said. "to get a a wizard book to read with grandda." 

"Good job," Remus said. "Now before we go, I'm going to change your appearance. You'll be my cousins, on my mother's side. She was a muggle, so no one will know the difference. Harry, what name did you and your grandmum pick? Mind it'll be better not to change it often."  

"Juney," Harry answered. "Juniper. The plant book says it means safe." 

"Protection," Lyle corrected, "and health, and love." 

Remus gave it some thought, before nodding and saying, "Juniper Howell, and your aunt...?"  

"Sarah Howell," Petunia supplied.  

"Perfect," Remus said. "Now I'm going to take out my wand and cast a spell to make you both look a bit different, and then I'll take us all to London." 

Petunia nodded to this, and Remus started; giving her brown hair and eyes, and the semblance of shorter hair.  

Petunia shuddered as the spells were cast on her, closing her eyes tightly, but she didn't move away.  

Harry, blind to his aunt's anxiety in the face of his own excitement stepped forward to be made a bit mousier, and have his eyes lightened to shade of green more similar to Remus's. Of course, Remus hid his scar, and he changed the look of Harry's glasses, making them less noticeable than the circular frames that Harry seemed to have inherited preference for.   

Lyle stood at some point and when Remus looked up from his work with Harry, he saw Rose looking impressed and holding up a mirror so that Harry could see his new appearance. Dudley walked over and Remus smiled as the two marveled at the change, with Dudley prodding at Harry's face and arms, squinting as if that would change what he saw.  

When Harry's eyes started to narrow at that treatment, Lyle sent Dudley upstairs to put on his shoes. Dudley would be going out to lunch with his Grandparents while they were gone, and then to a shop of his choosing. Petunia had insisted on it, and Remus could see the wisdom in keeping things as fair as possible between the boys for as long as possible.  

Harry hugged his grandparents and then he and his aunt looked to Remus expectantly.  

When directed, they took hold of his arms. Remus gave Lyle and Rose a reassuring smile before using side-along apparition to take himself, Harry and Petunia into a side room at the Leaky Cauldron.  

* * *

 

Apparating, Harry thought, felt like being squeezed too tight for too long. It was like that time he'd run off to look at something on a trip to one of the huge gardens in London. When his Grandmum had found him, she'd wrapped her arms around him and squeezed him till he thought that he might pop. This was like that, but all over and not just around his belly.  

When the feeling went away, he let go of Remus's arm and took in great heaving breaths but he still felt shorter than he'd been just a moment before.  

"Steady there Juney," Remus said, reminding Harry of the name he'd be using in the wizarding world until he was older.  

Harry looked around the room when he got his breath back.  It was small and well lit, but empty. A fire roared behind them, comfortingly warm against the February chill.   

Remus stepped towards the door, and Harry realized that he could hear people moving outside.  

"Ready, Sarah?" Remus asked his aunt, and she nodded, short brown hair brushing her jawline with the motion.  

Remus stepped out first, and Harry reached for his hand as he joined him. His aunt walked behind them. At the end of the hall they came to a wide, cozy, room with wooden tables and chairs. It was lit by floating candles that seemed to soak up their wax just when it would have dripped down on the patrons below, renewing themselves. The place wasn't packed, but it was far from empty. Harry was a little overwhelmed at first, to see so many different kinds of people, and in clothes that ranged from wizard robes in bright colors to poorly matched muggle clothing.  

As they walked past tables Harry saw that some wizards and witches had animals with them. A witch with a large mole slipped bits of food to a large black cat that lay in the seat next to her. A wizard in a blue robe reached into a box on the table beside him and offered a mouse to snake wrapped around his other arm.  

"About time, " the snake said, and Harry might have stopped to stare but Remus pulled him along. Even so, Harry looked over his shoulder to see if his aunt had heard.  

Aunt Pet was looking at him in that hard way, as if forcing her eyes not to see the man, or the snake, or anything else. Scared, Harry remembered. Wriggling his hand free from Remus's, he took hold of his aunt's.  

"We'll be fine," Harry whispered to her, like his grandda did when Harry woke with a nightmare, "All fine. Promise."  

Aunt Pet gave him a small smile.  

 Not far from a door that seemed to lead outside, there was a long bar, manned by a bald, older, wizard in plain black robes.  

"Tom," Remus called out to him. "How are you?"  

"Just fine, Lupin, better with you bringing me new customers.  Chips and sandwiches for lot? Or a coupla mugs 'o soup?"  

Remus looked back at Harry and his aunt. Harry didn't reply, but his aunt must have gestured, as Remus turned back to "Tom" and asked for sandwiches and chips, along with two mugs of hot "butterbeer" whatever that was.  

Tom came around from the bar and steered them to a table at the edge of the crowd.   

"My father first brought me here when I was about your age, Harry, " Remus began, and Harry listened, he honestly did, but he also kept hold of his aunt's hand, patting it when she seemed to tense up.  

When the food arrived, his aunt regarded it suspiciously, but she didn't stop Harry from eating his fill. She even had a few chips and most of her sandwich after a while, and chanced a sip of butterbeer. Harry inhaled the rest of it once she handed it back, loving the taste of warm butterscotch.  

"That counts as your sweet for today, Juney," Aunt Pet told him when he started fidgeting in his seat.  

"Yes, Aunt Sarah," Harry replied. "Bookstore?"  

"Can we walk there?" Aunt Pet asked, tensing.  

"I'd planned on that, yes," Remus said, "but this is our first outing like this. I could bring you a book Harry, and we could try again another day?"  

Harry felt his mouth opening to argue but Aunt Pet squeezed his hand hard.  

"Ow!" Harry said, turning to look at his aunt. Still looking down concentrating on the table, not looking at their surroundings. 

Harry turned back to Remus, feeling his eyes water. He really wanted to go, and see, and bring back a book with pictures that moved, but his aunt was really scared.  

"I want to go home," Harry muttered, looking down at the table. "Can we go?"  

Harry heard Remus breathe in and saw the shadow of his arm crossing the table to comfort him.  _That's stupid_ _,_ Harry thought, _I'm not afraid. I don’t need_ _help_ _._ _Why won't you help her_ _?_  

Harry wanted suddenly to reach up and swat that hand away, but before he could move Aunt Pet spoke.  

"We can go after the bookstore," she murmured. "I'll be fine. It should get easier in time, right?"  

Remus nodded, then turned to Harry.  

"Trade seats with me?" he asked. "I'd like to talk with your aunt."  

Harry hopped up and moved around the table to the unoccupied seat beside Remus. He felt his eyes widen as the change in position gave him a new view. A witch used subtle flicks of her wand to enchant a steaming cup to float beside her face as she read, tilting to meet her when she leaned over to take a drink.  

As Aunt Pet and Remus talked in low voices, Harry found that he was even charmed by normal things. People reading papers and haranguing Tom for taking too long when they needed to get back to work.  He and his grandda read the paper in the morning. Harry wondered if hecould get a newspaper for him.  Harry pictured sitting with his grand-da in this place, where magic was everywhere, but ultimately decided that that wouldn’t go well.  

 _There's too much to look at,_ Harry thought, _I'd miss my turn to read a lot._  

Remus and Aunt Pet stood. Harry stood too, going to his aunt's side.  

They followed him into an alley behind the inn and Remus took Harry's free hand.  

"Remember, Juney," Remus said. "It's just like the museum. You have to stay with me and with your aunt, no matter what you see. Alright? If your hand leaves mine or your aunt's before we get to Flourish and Blotts, I'm taking you home."  

Harry nodded.  

Remus pulled out his wand and tapped some bricks. 

At first Harry was confused. What could Remus be doing to that wall? Weren't they meant to be going to a shop? 

Then the bricks moved, and Harry's thoughts were pushed aside in a rush of wonder.  

"Welcome to Diagon Alley," Remus said, and he led the way forward.  

Harry's eyes were starting to hurt. He felt like he'd been holding them open and wide for hours and he was still missing things. Robes and pointed hats, brightly colored, flashing displays promising magical cures or curses, small strange people dressed in tea cozies, the sights were more than he could properly take in. It was too much. 

When they reached the store, Harry pressed his face into his aunt's side and closed his eyes. 

"Juney?" She asked, and even that felt like too much. He wanted to go home, where he could use his right name and where things were still and quiet.  

The world brightened and tilted as Remus picked him up. Harry wrapped his arms around Remus's shoulders and dared a peak as he walked further into the store.  

There were books everywhere, and the shelves made the space seem smaller; much better than outside. Books floated overhead, and enclosed lamps but he could get used to that.  

Harry looked at his aunt, walking behind them, and she looked much calmer than she had in the inn. She met his eyes and said, "It's just a bookstore, Juney. I saw newspapers at the front desk. Shall we get one for Da?"  

Harry nodded, then squirmed until Remus put him down. His aunt was right.  Harry spotted a sign on a low shelf that said "books for young wizards".    

"There's your section, Harry," Aunt Pet told him, touching his shoulder and offering him a small, reassuring smile. 

Harry nodded and bent to explore.  

* * *

 

That night, Petunia asked her mother for a book on transplanting common garden plants.  

She hadn't meant anything by it, had only barely begun to process the bookstore trip, but Rose gave her a warm smile.  

"Not till spring, Pet," Rose said. "The shock from the cold could be dangerous for a while yet. I promise, I'll help you more than the book would, but give it till spring."  

Tired from the days efforts, Petunia nodded and went to check on her boys before going to bed. She thought back to the afternoon. Lupin had described exactly what she'd see when he tapped the bricks. He'd been more kind than she'd have expected and Petunia could see why Harry liked him so much.  

With his help, she'd gone into a place of magic with Harry. At the core, they'd just been a pub, and a bookstore, if wildly different in appearance.  She could handle that now.  

Sleepy, but feeling more capable than she had all day, she realized what her mother had meant. Petunia made plans to talk with Vernon, but any "transplanting" would be better done in spring, at the earliest.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (if you missed it, there's a 6 month jump when Remus's pov section starts)
> 
> This was much later than I planned on it being. What can I say? Life happens. I hope that you like this. I appreciate all the kudos and comments that this story and series have recieved, thank you for being awesome, and thanks for reading.


	6. Chapter 6

Harry was sitting in his patch of garden. It was a fine June day, warm and lovely. The sky was starting to shift colors as the sun began to set. The air smelled fresh and good, but Harry felt restless.  

Inside the house, Remus, his grandparents, and his aunt were talking. It seemed like a Very Serious Conversation and they’d sent Harry outside, with his brand-new book on magical plants and garden creatures, so it was probably about him.  

Harry tried to focus on the moving pictures of garden gnomes and dirigible plums, but it was hard. He hadn’t meant to cause any fuss. The day had been so good before he’d asked his questions. It was so strange. Grand-da usually liked questions, and Remus was much the same.  

Remus, Harry, and Aunt Pet, had gone to Fortescue’s and the bookshop before taking a walk up and down the Alley. Harry had loved it, and Aunt Pet hadn’t seemed scared for almost the whole time. It was nearly perfect, but Harry and his aunt had been posing again as Remus’s cousins ‘Juney and Sarah’. They always did that, in the Wizarding World and when Remus took Harry near London or any other new places.  

Usually it didn’t bother Harry, but lately things had been changing. The different face and name, even for a few hours made him feel unsteady.  

When they’d arrived home after their day out, Harry had turned to Remus and asked, “Why do I have to be Juney? Why can’t I just be me when we go?” 

The room had seemed to stop moving, and nobody fell over, but it still felt like that time he’d run his bicycle full speed into a curb that was too high to roll onto. The adults had sent him outside; so there he was, looking over at his garden and realizing suddenly that some of his plants had been dug up.  

Harry put the book down and walked on his knees closer to the empty space where one of his plants had been. Why would someone take one of his mums? He’d worked so hard to keep them healthy and make sure that they’d flower in their time. There were herbs missing too.  

This was too much. Harry felt his eyes go warm as tears formed and fell. He sat back on his heels and hugged his plush black dog, not even caring that he’d left Padfoot in his bedroom and that he wasn’t supposed to let magical things happen outside if he could help it. He didn’t even care that one of his friends in the neighborhood might come by and see him clinging to the toy. 

There were footsteps behind him and Harry rushed to dry his face with his hands but he couldn’t hide Padfoot. 

“Harry, what’s the matter?” Grandmum asked, leaning down carefully to pick up his book and tangle gentle fingers in his perpetually untidy hair.  

“Someone took my flowers,” Harry said, then everything that had been bothering him over the last few weeks fell from his mouth in a rush. “And I couldn’t find my drawings, remember? Or Mum’s picture? I didn’t mean to lose it, honest I didn’t.  And you won’t let me help much anymore, and everyone’s mad at me ‘cause I don’t want to be Juney.”   

They both jumped as the Padfoot toy stood up in front of Harry and nuzzled his face before lying still.  

“Good dog,” Harry said, distracted momentarily before he looked up to his Grandmum, who frowned and fretted with her long skirt.  

“I’m sorry,” Harry pleaded. “Don’t be sad!” 

Grandmum shook her head.  

“No one’s mad at you dear, and don’t worry about your flowers, or the picture, or any of it. I know where they’ve gone,” she told him. “Now, you asked a question and it was a fair one. The answer is a little big for you, but we’ve decided that you’re ready. Come inside, my lion-heart. All will be well.”  

Harry stood, taking Padfoot one hand and letting his grandmum lead him inside with the other.  

Remus, Aunt Pet, and Grand-da were in the living room when Harry and Grandmum arrived.  

Remus held out a hand and Harry, glancing up at his grandmum, let go of hers and crossed the room, allowing himself to be drawn to sit on a cushioned footrest in front of his friend.  

“Your grandparents have told me that you know a little bit about the night your parents died. Can you tell me what you know?” Remus asked. “It’s related to why I want you to be Juney sometimes.” 

Harry was puzzled. He looked at Remus for a long moment, taking in his forced-calm face. It was the one he made when Harry asked about his dad’s other friends. Not seeing what else he could do, Harry answered.  

“There was a war, a secret magic war, and they fought in it. One day a bad man came to our house and he hurt them. I think he put the light on them? It was there, though, and that’s why they aren’t here-here, even though they’re in-my-heart-forever-and-always. Mum protected me. Dad did too right? He was brave,” Harry said, matter-of-factly.  “I think the war stopped, 'cause no one says anything about it after that, just that I came here. Oh, and I got the scar then.”  

“Good job,” Remus said, though he looked a bit like Harry had felt when he’d hit the ground after being tossed over the handlebars when his bike had hit the curb before. “There’s some parts they held back though, because you were smaller. Harry, the bad man, Voldemort or more often called You-Know-Who because the name makes people upset- anyway when he came to your house that night, he tried to hurt you too, but he couldn’t. The light you remember, you’ve said it was green?”  

Harry nodded, moving from the stool to sit on the floor and lean against Remus’s shin, hiding his face in the side of the older man’s knee.  

“I think it was the spell he used, Harry, and until you, it’d worked on everyone he cast it against. It took wizards a hundred times your age at the time, you were just a baby, but it didn’t work, and it destroyed him. The war ended, yes.” Remus told him. “It ended that night, with you. Because of that, in our world, You’re famous. Harry Potter, The Boy Who Lived, they call you. Some people will want to be very nice to you because of that, but some… Harry, You-Know-Who was not the only bad man, and there were women too. They followed him, and some will blame you for the fact that he’s gone.” 

“I didn’t do anything though,” Harry said. Then something occurred to him and he gasped as he started crying again. “If I stopped him, how come they died? I was late! I stopped him late!”  

Aunt Pet appeared at his side as if by magic. She pulled him into her arms and held him.  

“You were too little,” Aunt Pet reminded him, rubbing his back. “Like one of Arabella’s new kittens. Remember Tops? That you lived was a miracle. Miracles don’t come late or early, they just come, and it’s ok to be sad but you weren’t late. You were right on time for them. No one could have saved your mum and dad, Harry, but they loved you and you lived. I don’t believe for an instant that they’d regret that. It’s the only thing they’d have wanted.”  

Harry’s tears slowed, and he leaned into his aunt, feeling sleepy from all the crying.  

“So when do I get to just be Harry, not Juney?” he asked, yawning after he spoke.  

“After you get your Hogwarts letter; we’ll see how it goes,” Remus answered. “Around three birthdays after your next one.” 

Harry glanced over at Grand-da and Grandmum who nodded agreement. Grand-da gestured, and Harry felt himself being picked up, probably by Remus, because no one else did it so easily anymore. He felt himself being moved and heard the hollow sound of feet on the stairs before he yawned again and drifted off to sleep.  

* * *

Remus put Harry into his bed and walked back downstairs, struck by what he’d overheard before. He noticed for the first time that Rose and Lyle had sat back and let Petunia do the immediate work of comforting Harry. His contemplation must have shown on his face because Lyle spoke up, attempting reassurance.  

“He could have taken it much worse,” Lyle pointed out as Remus drew closer.  

“He could have,” Remus agreed. “I’m sorry, but I overheard him when he spoke in the garden… you’re moving his things?” 

Lyle turned to Rose, surprised and confused. Remus kicked himself mentally, usually he was better at remembering what he should and should not be able to hear.  

“Harry’s noticed things missing,” Rose reported. “He thought that someone had stolen some of his flowers and his pictures. Petunia, care to explain?”  

Remus turned to look at Petunia. She seemed uncertain and sad for a moment before nodding to herself.  

“I’m making him a proper bedroom,” she said, “And a little garden, at my home in Surrey. I want him to have some time with us before he goes to H-Hogwarts.”  

Remus turned to the Evanses, concerned. “Are you well? Do you need me to come more often? I could.”  

“You’re a nice young man, Remus,” Lyle replied, “but I have to be an honest one. I’m sixty-three years old, and Harry is only just nearly eight. I’m not planning on going anywhere soon, I hope I’ve got years left with my family, but Harry has always been too important for just my hopes. It takes time to build things, and he’ll need his supports well established, when the time comes.”  

Rose moved over and put an arm around her husband. Her face was almost noble in its resignation. She’d been planning for this, Remus realized, for quite a long time. Remus thought of his own mother, Hope, whose natural death had been one of the hardest to take in a year of loss and war. Lily’s parents were older than Remus’s, and muggle, as his mother had been. How had he not thought of this before?  

Time seemed to lose meaning as he stood, taking in the truth that they’d all been living with since before he’d entered their lives and considering the willingness that Harry’s grandparent’s had shown to let him get close to Harry.  

 Remus walked over and sat next to Petunia. He was amazed at how quickly Harry’s grandparents had become dear to him. It was hard to think that soon, they too might be gone. Setting the matter aside to brood over later, he met Petunia’s gaze.  

“When?” Remus asked.  

“Mid-August,” Petunia replied. “I’m giving him the bedroom for his birthday, among other things. We’ll tell him after that, and give him time to come back, to get his friends’ phone numbers and say goodbye to his teachers. He’ll visit here each month with me and Dudley.”  

It seemed so soon, maybe two months.  Remus felt his sadness growing even as he asked his next question. Having Harry in his life had been a gift. Harry was a bright spot in his days, one of two regular points of light, if he counted his visits with his father. (Remus had been contemplating bringing Harry to meet Lyall Lupin, but he hadn’t been certain if Petunia would see it as a powerplay or a threat of some sort. That might not matter anymore depending on Petunia’s next response.)  

“Will I still be allowed to visit with him as I have?” Remus asked.  

Petunia’s eyes widened slightly, and Remus couldn’t breathe as she appeared to be mulling over the question. 

Finally, she replied.  

“Yes, Remus of course,” she said. “I wouldn’t hurt him like that. Or you for that matter. You’ve been very helpful these past months. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to repay you.”  

Remus breathed deeply and grinned, “I’m paying off older debts in kindness, but I do have someone I’d like to introduce Harry to. Might even help with some things.”     

The conversation continued, with Rose and Lyle joining in.  

None of them noticed the small pair of green eyes watching them from the staircase.  

The boy crept upstairs and stared around his room as though seeing it for the first time.  

“I’m famous,” he told the soft plush deer that Remus had given him for Christmas. Padfoot was still downstairs but “Prongs”, as Remus had called the deer, was a good listener too.  

His head was tilted as if asking Harry, “What of it?”  

“It’s dumb,” Harry agreed. Then he added. “We’re leaving. I’m leaving.”  

Prongs didn’t seem to have a reaction for that, at least not a different one than before, and Harry thought that that was fair. He wasn’t sure how to feel either.  

He thought about Juniper Howell, the story Remus told when anyone asked about him. Juney had living parents (muggle ones) and an aunt (a ‘squib’ who’d married his mum’s brother). Juney wasn’t about to leave anywhere, or have people think him special for not being dead. 

“I think I want to be Juney forever,” He told prongs, and then he curled up next to him on the bed and slept until someone woke him for dinner.   

* * *

Over the next weeks, Harry played more with his friends than he ever had before. Released from many of his chores, he had plenty of time. When it was hard, when every word and game felt like "goodbye" even though none of them knew that he was leaving, he snuck and did extra chores. He did his best to pull down the winter things and hang them up to air out. He dusted and swept when his grandparents were in other rooms. He broke the rules and used a sharp knife to cut up vegetables for soup and put them in the refrigerator, because vegetable prep was his job, and he didn't want them having to do it. He used the rice cooker to make rice to put away, because that was his job too, and Grandmum said he 'had a way with that old thing'.  

Harry had gotten up at dawn to sneak and put the clothes in the washing machine when his grand-da caught him.   

"You know. Don't you?" the man asked from the laundry room door. Harry turned slowly, looked into his eyes and nodded.  

Grand-da sighed and held out his hand. Harry put down the shirt he'd been holding and walked over to take it.  They walked down to the study and sat to read a book together. It was a child's book about magical fish and mermaids. The pictures glowed softly blue and green, and Harry felt warm and soft inside as he read aloud and listened when it was his turn.  

When they finished the book, his grand-da pressed a kiss to his forehead.  

"Remember this, Harry. Wherever you go, wherever I am, I am with you when you read, and when you show that clever streak in you, and forever," Grand-da said, reaching up and cupping Harry's face in his hand, "I am in what we do, as They are in who you are. No one ever leaves. Nothing really dies. Love changes, but never ends."  

He looked up over Harry's head, and Harry turned to see his grandmum standing in the doorway.  

"When am I with you?" She asked coming to sit on Harry's other side, on the small sofa. "Where will you find me, Love? What do we do?"  

Harry thought about it for minute, then said, "In the garden, and cooking, taking care of people, and growing things, and always."  

She nodded, wrapping and arm around him, "Everyone can be found. No one is ever lost forever. Love is how we come home. You and your Grand-da are so smart. You've always known this. You learned from your mother, and your aunt and us. You'll learn it again and again. Love changes, but never ends. There's always a way back home, if you seek it."  

Harry nodded. Then his stomach rumbled.  

"Breakfast?" Harry asked.  

Both of his grandparents laughed at that, and hugged him a bit longer, before leading him into the kitchen to make breakfast. That night at bedtime, and every night for a while, they played "When am I with you?" And remembered together. It felt like goodbye, like practice for it, but Harry found that he was glad for that. Hard things got better with practice. He hoped that this would too.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And it's done! I struggled with this chapter for a while. I'm planning for six stories in the series, so this is fairly well in the middle, but also an ending in its way? In any case, Thank you so much for reading, and for your Kudos and comments. They are seen, each one, and appreciated so much. I'll be starting the next story in the series once I think more about where we're headed, because every time I make a plan for the series it laughs and the stories get longer. If there's anything you particularly want to see, comment. I make no promises but suggestions could be neat. 
> 
> Again, Thanks, and I wish you safe travels, good books, and swift, ever-open ways to whatever place is best and most welcoming, as often as you need to be there, until we 'meet' again.


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